Part 25 (1/2)

”That he thinks you're sleeping with somebody named Steven Creed,” Ashley said, without missing a beat.

With anyone else, Melissa might have fibbed, and with a lot of protestation, too. But lying to her sister was just plain useless; they knew each other too well. ”He has his nerve,” she said, hedging. That didn't usually work, either, but sometimes she could pull it off.

Maybe Ashley was jet-lagged.

No such luck. ”Is it true?” she asked.

Melissa double-checked to make sure Katie was sleeping and the white-haired guests were still tangoing to the music only they could hear before she answered, ”Not in the ongoing ongoing sense, however Tom might have made it sound.” sense, however Tom might have made it sound.”

Again, Ashley giggled. She would have looked like a Victorian lady, standing there in front of the cupboard, waiting for the tea to steep, if it hadn't been for the shorts and top. ”The 'ongoing sense'? What the heck does that that mean, sister mine?” mean, sister mine?”

Melissa sank back into her chair at the table again. She felt weirdly agitated and, at the same time, crazy-happy. ”It means it happened once, once,” she said, in a whisper. ”Last night. We've known each other for all of five days. He's a lawyer and his name is Steven Creed. Do you have any other questions?”

”Only about a million,” Ashley said.

Outside, voices rose on the warm summer air, and a plaintive meow rang out. Jack was back, with Mrs. Wiggins.

”Guess they'll have to wait for a while,” Melissa said.

”Guess so,” Ashley agreed, pouring tea.

Jack opened the screen door and came inside, the family cat a fluff of white inside its plastic carrier, and Ashley put one index finger to her lips and pointed toward the sleeping toddler with the other.

The man's face fairly glowed with love for his wife and daughter, it seemed to Melissa. He nodded, kissed Ashley smartly on the mouth and carefully released Mrs. Wiggins from the carrier.

With all that, he still managed a brotherly wink for Melissa. He mouthed the word hi. hi.

Ashley, an animal lover, stooped to pet the cat.

Mrs. Wiggins, no doubt indignant over her people's long absence, twitched her tail, gave one petulant meow and vanished through the dining room door.

Melissa sneezed.

”Oh, for Pete's sake,” Ashley said. ”You're not not allergic.” allergic.”

Melissa sneezed again.

Jack, a dark-haired, outdoorsy type, agile and fit, c.o.c.ked a thumb over one shoulder, evidently indicating the backyard. ”Mamie Crockett just waylaid me in the driveway,” he told Ashley in a be-quiet-the-baby's-sleeping voice. ”She said our guests have been raising three kinds of h.e.l.l ever since they got here.”

”Mamie,” Ashley said, ”is a sweet old thing, but she's also a curmudgeon.”

”It's true,” Melissa said.

Jack grinned admiringly and shook his head. ”I sure hope I'm I'm still getting into that much trouble when I hit my nineties,” he said. ”If somebody calls the cops because the tango music is too loud, I'll count that as a real accomplishment.” still getting into that much trouble when I hit my nineties,” he said. ”If somebody calls the cops because the tango music is too loud, I'll count that as a real accomplishment.”

”Not to mention just making making it to that age,” Ashley added, slapping Jack's hand when he reached for the brownies and grabbed three of them in one swoop. it to that age,” Ashley added, slapping Jack's hand when he reached for the brownies and grabbed three of them in one swoop.

”I wonder if they skydive,” Jack teased. ”And ride mechanical bulls.”

”I wouldn't be a bit surprised,” Melissa replied.

Just then, Katie awakened, hauled herself upright by gripping the rails of her playpen, and let out a wail. ”Potty!” she yelled.

”Your turn,” Ashley told Jack, helping herself to a brownie before carrying the plate to the table and setting it down in the middle.

Jack swept the toddler up and kissed her on the cheek. ”Too late,” he said, after patting Katie's diaper-cus.h.i.+oned bottom.

With that, he and Katie disappeared through the dining room doorway, headed upstairs.

It was hard to believe that Jack McKenzie, able diaper-changer, had so recently headed up a top-notch security company, personally rescuing men, women and children from South American jungles and other politically volatile environments. Although he still owned the firm, and occasionally met with clients and with his key employees, always somewhere far from his wife and child, he seemed content to live in Stone Creek. Riding the range with Brad and Tanner, Olivia's husband, seemed to be all the adventure he needed these days.

”Now we can talk about the new man in your life,” Ashley said to Melissa. ”He's not not 'the man in my life,'” Melissa insisted. ”I barely know Steven.” 'the man in my life,'” Melissa insisted. ”I barely know Steven.”

Ashley, sitting across the table from her now and nibbling at one of the brownies, raised an eyebrow. ”You know him well enough to sleep sleep with him,” she said. with him,” she said.

”Be quiet,” Melissa whispered, as the screen door creaked open and the first of the guests entered into the kitchen.

”I smell brownies!” Herbert whooped.

THEY'D WALKED THE PROPERTY, checked out the ram-shackle old house and the ruins of the barn, now partially removed by the work crew that had been there earlier, but Brody still hadn't answered Steven's question. Still hadn't said where he'd been since he and Conner got into a fistfight in a parking lot in Lonesome Bend one night, two weeks after graduating from college, and parted ways.

Brody hadn't even gone home to pack up any of his belongings, as far as anybody knew. His old dog, always riding shotgun, was with him, and the two of them just lit out without so much as a ”Go to h.e.l.l” to the rest of the family.

Now, watching as Matt and the dog played tag in the softening afternoon light, Brody hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his threadbare jeans and smiled to himself. ”You gonna tell me how you happened to come by a kid, Boston?” he asked, his voice low-pitched and gruff with some private emotion.

Steven explained about Zack's and Jillie's deaths, and how he'd adopted Matt when they were both gone.

”That's doing things the hard way,” Brody commented, and Steven couldn't be sure whether he was referring to Zack and Jillie, for dying, or Steven himself, for stepping up to raise a child.

But sympathy flickered in Brody's eyes as he watched the boy and the dog playing their games. He was one tough cowboy, and that was as true a thing as any statement ever had been, but deep down, he was a sucker for kids and critters. Always had been.

He slanted a glance at Steven, slapped him hard on the back. ”I figured you'd be married by now,” he said.

Steven laughed. ”Why?”

Brody gestured toward Matt. ”Because you're the marrying kind,” he said. ”Unlike me.”

”'The marrying kind'?” Steven repeated. ”Excuse me?”

”Face it,” Brody said, and another grin splashed across his face. ”You were born to be a husband and a father.”

”Unlike you?” Steven prodded lightly.

”Unlike me,” Brody affirmed. ”No good woman would have me, and while I might sleep with a bad one, I'd never put a wedding ring on her finger.”

Steven couldn't stand the wondering any longer. ”Brody,” he said, his tone firm now, his gaze direct. ”Where have you been?”

”It's like that old Johnny Cash song,” Brody said. ”I've been everywhere, man.”